Brothers
by anon004
Summary: A sort of epilogue to season twelve's Red Light.


_Hello, Criminal Minds fandom! My name is anon004, and although I am not new to fan fiction writing, I am new here. This all began with my daughter, who suggested I watch a few episodes of Criminal Minds on Netflix last summer. Well, once I did that, I was hooked! I watched all twelve seasons and then season thirteen when the DVDs became available. (I've also seen most of season 14 as well.)_

_For a sense of when this takes place in the series timeline, this story is a scene my daughter and I both wanted to see – at the end of season twelve, after Diana was rescued and when Morgan visited and told Garcia he was going to see Reid. The end of this story may be AU from the timeline of the final episode of season twelve and the episode at the beginning of season thirteen. Honestly, I got tired trying to figure out just how long that day was and when Reid (temporarily) rejoined the team to look for Emily._

_I intend this to be the beginning of an AU that will start here and continue, (mostly) not related to seasons thirteen and fourteen, other than incorporating bits and pieces as they fit in. It will center around Reid, mainly because my daughter and I agree that he is the most interesting character on the show (your mileage may vary, of course)._

_Also, in the interests of full disclosure, let me just warn you that I'm more interested in the characters than the cases, so if you are looking for some intricately plotted True Crime Story with a brilliant and diabolical unsub who always manages to stay one step ahead of Our Intrepid Team, I'm not the one to write that. Anyway, here goes . . . _

Sudden noises like door buzzers still made Reid jump. It had only been a short time, after all.

He thought he should be excited and happy about seeing Morgan, since it felt like a lifetime since they'd talked. But he wasn't. If he felt anything, it was dread. He worried that Morgan would want to talk about how Reid had spent the last few months, and that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

That made Reid realize that this would be another divide in his life. His life before his father left and his life after. His life before he had his mother committed, and his life after. His life before Maeve and his life after. His life before prison, and, now, his life after. Events that ensured he would never be the same. Things that caused so much pain –

"Spencer," Diana emerged from the bedroom in her robe, "Someone is at the door. Are you going to answer it?"

Reid snapped out of his reverie. Morgan was here, and Reid would have to wallow later. Time to slap on his big-boy, brave face and get this over with.

Reid opened the door.

"Hey, Kid," Morgan stated from the hallway. He was holding a drink tray with coffee cups and a good-sized bag. "I hope bagels are okay."

"Sure" Reid answered, taking the bag and the tray. "Thanks."

Several beats passed and Reid made no move to let him into the apartment. Morgan wondered if Reid was going to take the breakfast and just send him on his way. _Wow, he must be in a bad way_, Morgan thought.

Finally, Morgan had to ask, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Reid began, "Well, Mom's kind of tired and –"

Morgan heard Diana's voice from inside the apartment, "Spencer Reid, don't you dare use me as an excuse! Let that lovely man in!"

"Lovely? Mom, that's just – "

"Embarrassing? Too bad, Spencer." Diana informed him. "Life is short, and mine is even shorter, so I have to get my enjoyment when and where I can. Besides, I heard that that is the last thing to go."

Diana winked and made a double clicking noise.

Reid rolled his eyes and then turned to Morgan and sighed in a resigned fashion. "Come in."

Morgan couldn't help but grin as he stepped into the apartment. "Hi, Mrs. Reid."

"Please, we're all adults, call me Diana," she insisted.

"How are you feeling?" Morgan inquired.

"Much better now that I'm back with Spencer," Diana replied.

"Good," Morgan acknowledged. He decided not to comment on what Diana had been through. Maybe she had forgotten or was at least a little hazy about it. Probably the only benefit of having memory problems was the ability to forget trauma, or aspects of it. He was pulled back into the moment by Reid's question.

"I really don't have a place to sit and eat, so do you mind if we set up here?" Reid asked, indicating the coffee table in the living room.

Morgan wondered if Reid were thinking about moving, at least to a place with another bedroom so he didn't have to sleep on the couch. Of course, the couch probably seemed luxurious compared to the hard surface Reid had been sleeping on for the past few months. Well, that was another discussion Morgan didn't feel the need to have right now.

"So, how are you holding up?" Morgan asked after Reid had returned with utensils and plates.

"I'm okay, I guess," Reid responded. He was cutting a bagel for his Mom.

"He's too thin," Diana chimed in as Reid gestured to the containers of cream cheese and Diana pointed to the flavor she wanted. Spencer spread it on her bagel and put it on a plate for her. Reid picked up one of the cups of coffee.

"There's cream and sugar in the smaller bag inside," Morgan informed them.

"I never did like sweet coffee," Diana wrinkled her nose. "Just the cream, please."

Reid opened two of the small cream containers and then removed the lid of the coffee cup and poured them in. He replaced the lid and checked to make sure it was secure before handing it to Diana.

_He really has to do everything for her_, Morgan silently observed. _I hope he has some help, or he's not going to be able to deal with all of this._

As if Reid were reading Morgan's mind, he stated, "Mom's caregiver should be here soon. I thought if you wanted that we could go somewhere after that."

"Well, I'm definitely going to need more than one cup of coffee," Morgan replied. "Between travel and the BAU, I was up all night."

"When does your flight leave?" Reid inquired.

"This afternoon. So we'll have some time," Morgan informed him.

Reid's expression wasn't exactly one of enthusiasm. But at least he seemed a little more willing to talk now than he had been when Morgan first arrived at the apartment. That gave Morgan some hope.

"So, I saw everyone at the BAU before I came here," Morgan remarked.

"I'm sure Garcia was thrilled to see you," Reid noted.

"She hugged me and said I smelled like hope and happiness."

Reid gave up a small smile.

"Rumor has it, she was pretty thrilled to see you, too," Morgan commented, "You know, after . . . "

Reid shot Morgan a look that let him know not to bring up where Reid had been. Probably because Diana was still in the room.

"She was amazing all during the um, you know, the whole time," Reid told him. "She arranged a visitation schedule and made sure everyone wrote to me and sent me books and things. I'm pretty sure most of them never got to me, but, still . . . "

"Kind of like the baskets Mrs. Cavanaugh took," Morgan remembered.

A look of pain passed quickly across Reid's face as he responded, "Something like that."

"Who's Mrs. Cavanaugh?" Diana asked. She'd finished her bagel and was sipping her coffee.

"She used to live down the hall," Reid replied as he slowly moved the cup away from Diana's face and gently wiped the cream cheese and crumbs from her mouth.

"What happened to her?" Diana inquired.

"She left and moved in with her daughter in Florida, I think," Reid answered.

"Florida, that's the place old people go to die," Diana asserted.

"There are plenty of retirees in Vegas, too, Mom," Reid countered.

"I guess so," Diana conceded.

At that point, the buzzer for the door sounded again. Reid flinched slightly. It wasn't much, but enough for Morgan to see it.

"That's Mom's caregiver," Reid informed Morgan as he got up to get the door.

Reid let in a small, dark-haired woman.

"Hi, Diana," the woman said as she entered the living space.

At first, Reid's mother looked confused. Everyone gave her a second.

"Oh, hi, Andrea," Diana eventually responded.

The caregiver was looking curiously at Morgan. Reid stepped in.

"This is my, um, this is Derek Morgan," Reid stated awkwardly.

"Nice to meet you," Morgan stood up and extended his hand, which Andrea shook.

"Dr. Reid, you don't have to be so careful with what you say," Andrea explained. "It's 2017, and two men who are together don't have to hide it anymore, at least around me."

"We're, um, we're not together," Reid asserted, with no small amount of embarrassment.

"You're not?" Andrea almost sounded disappointed. "I mean, two really good looking men . . . I guess I just assumed . . . "

Morgan helped by holding up his left hand and turning it to show the wedding band on his ring finger.

"Ah, so you're straight, but you're still not available," Andrea sighed. "Oh, well."

The caregiver turned her attention to her charge. "Are you done with your breakfast, Diana?"

When Reid's Mom acknowledged she was, Andrea said, "It's time for your shower, then."

"I can do that myself," Diana insisted.

"Except you don't," Andrea countered.

"Fine," Diana huffed as she headed for the bedroom and the attached bathroom, with the caregiver following.

Andrea paused at the bedroom door as Reid informed her, "Now that you've arrived, I'm going to go out for a while."

"I'll be here for the day and Maria is coming for the night shift, so we're covered, Dr. Reid," Andrea informed him.

She pointed to the coffee table and the remains of breakfast, "You can leave that stuff there. I'll clean it up."

"Thanks, " Reid said as he reached for his sport coat from the back of a chair. He turned to Morgan, "You ready?"

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not hungry."

"Your Mom is right, you are too thin," Morgan admonished. "And you're not going to get back to your old self if you don't eat."

"One, I haven't been hungry for a while," Reid noted, "And, two, I'm never getting back to my old self."

A look of regret crossed Morgan's face. "I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted – "

"It's okay," Reid reassured him. "So, where do you want to go?"

"Would you like something besides bagels?" Morgan asked. "As you know, there's a twenty-four hour diner a couple of block's walk from here."

"The type of food isn't the issue," Reid asserted. "Maybe we could just grab our bagels, get some more coffee at a food cart outside the park, and go sit on one of the benches. It's good weather and I like being outside as much as I can these days, as you can probably imagine."

Morgan winced slightly, fully understanding the implication of what Reid was saying. "Sure, Kid," was all he replied.

Morgan sliced two bagels and put cream cheese on them as Reid went to his kitchen and grabbed some sealable plastic bags. They put the bagels in the bags, and left to go the three blocks to the coffee stand. They got their coffee and then walked a bit until they found an isolated park bench.

They sat down and starting eating.

"I'd ask you how you are, but that seems like a silly question." Morgan noted.

"Well, I am achieving something," Reid noted. "With my eidetic memory, I'm getting quite the list of things I wish I could forget. The day my father left, the day they took my Mom to the mental health facility, when Tobias Hinkle captured me, when Maeve died, when Gideon died, and now every day I spent in jail and in prison. If I do inherit Alzheimer's from my Mom, at least there'll be an upside to it."

"Don't joke about that, Reid."

"I'm not joking. Or, at least, only half-joking."

Morgan sighed. "I wish there was something I could do. I wish there was something I could have done. Why didn't you let anyone tell me you were in there?"

"So you could do what, worry about me?" Reid replied. "That wouldn't have done any good for either of us."

"I know," Morgan admitted, "I just, I feel so helpless."

"Welcome to the club," Reid told him.

"Hey, I could have visited you," Morgan asserted.

"And what would that have accomplished?" Reid countered with his own question.

"It might have made you feel better."

"No, it would have made me feel worse."

"What?" Morgan didn't bother to mask his disappointment. "How?"

"One, at the time we thought it was the work of Mr. Scratch. Since he was out to get all of us and our families, your visiting me could have put you, Savanah and Hank on his radar."

"But it turned out not to be him."

"True, but I didn't know that and I would have worried about the three of you."

"You said, 'One.' What else?"

"It's embarrassing."

"Hey, this is me, not some stranger. Besides, didn't prison pretty much exhaust your 'being ashamed' supply?"

Reid gave Morgan a pained smiled. "Touche."

"So, second?" Morgan moved his hand in a circle, the sign for Reid to continue.

Reid took a deep breath. "Okay. You were always my protector. So much so that selfishly, I wanted you there with me. Not as a visitor, but right there. I wished so hard for it, somewhere very deep. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared. And so tired. Tired of being on guard every minute. Tired of trying to be the good guy. Tired of being the person who has to have all the answers. Tired of being the grown-up since I was six years old. I'm just fucking tired, Morgan."

Reid let the bitterness show on his face.

"I'm sorry," Morgan stated.

"Not your fault," was Reid's clipped reply.

"Still, there must have been something I could have done," Morgan insisted. "Typical of you to fight me on it."

"When did I do that?" Reid asked.

"All the time," Morgan replied.

"I did not! Give me one example!" Reid insisted.

"Okay, Pretty Boy," Morgan responded. "Do you remember when you got shot in the neck?"

"I let you ride in the ambulance with me!"

"Just because you were so out of it, you couldn't refuse."

"I wasn't that bad."

"You lost so much blood you almost passed out. They were barely able to keep you conscious."

"Okay," Reid conceded.

"That wasn't even what I was talking about, so stop interrupting me." Morgan expressed his frustration. "I was thinking about a few weeks after that. We were somewhere away, I can't remember where, and I was getting some bad coffee in a police station. I turned away from the machine and you were sitting at a table. I don't think you knew I was there. Anyway, as I came up behind you, you were rubbing your neck where you had been shot. I asked if you were okay, and you immediately moved your hand away from your neck and snapped back at me, "I'm fine, what about you?"

"Classic defensiveness and deflection," Reid observed. Morgan was reminded, once again, of Reid's almost supernatural ability to be detached, even from his own behavior.

"Uh-huh," Morgan agreed. "Why do you think you reacted that way?"

"Just habit, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"My childhood didn't exactly teach me to rely on others for help or sympathy. My father was gone, my mother was ill, I didn't have any siblings or extended family – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. I had no friends, and it's not like school was anything but a place of torment. I learned early on that I had no one to rely on but myself and that showing weakness would only bring on humiliation and pain."

Morgan sighed. "I hear you, kid. I had to 'be a man' from the time my father died. I was the one who had to take Carl Buford's 'help' in all its forms if I wanted to get out of there. So, I became the strong guy. I was just as scared as everyone else, but I couldn't show it. I had to be The Protector," Morgan's voice was bitter, and then softened, "Especially for you – a young, scrawny kid with vast knowledge but no street smarts. Who was all brains and no brawn. At first, someone who literally couldn't shoot straight."

"You should have resented it." Reid contended, "Resented me . . . "

"No," Morgan said, sounding like he just realized it. "No, no . . . there was something about you that was so, so . . . "

"Needy and helpless?" Reid offered.

"Well, yes, but that wasn't it," Morgan replied.

"What was it then?" Reid questioned.

"I don't know," Morgan pondered, his thoughts pouring out. "I mean, I don't know if I can describe it. Here you were, a genius. You could have done anything. You could have been one of those jerks in Silicon Valley making your first billion by the time you were thirty from some social media platform that wastes people's time and makes them hate each other. You could have gone into medical research and made some major breakthrough and gotten a God Complex over it.

"But no, you decided you were going to be a crime fighter. Like every little kid in the world someday imagines they will be, until they grow up. And even though what we did, what you do, is violent and grisly and seeing the absolute worst that humans can do to each other, there was a kind of sweetness, innocence, about your choosing to do it. I guess I just wanted you not to lose that. And, a guy tends to want to protect his friends."

"We aren't friends. We were never friends," Reid asserted.

"What?" Morgan sounded surprised. And hurt.

"It was always _more_ than that," Reid explained. "We were, we are, brothers. That's why we could prank each other. The relationship underneath was so solid, it could withstand that and more."

Reid continued. "I didn't fully realize it until prison. There was this guy who was transported in on the same bus that I was. His name was Delgado. He was even more pathetic and scared than me, or, at least, he was even worse at hiding it. A guy like that gets singled out. I tried to protect him, which was, in its own way, another pathetic, tragic gesture. Anyway, when I did that, I got a beating for my trouble. When we talked about it later in the prison laundry, he thanked me and I said, 'You would have done the same for me.' He said, 'No, I wouldn't have.' "

"That's cold," Morgan remarked.

"I didn't blame him," Reid argued. "He barely knew me. And we all had to protect ourselves. Because I had so much time on my hands, it got me thinking that because I was scared and lonely that I had been projecting other relationships on to the one I had with him. That I did know people who would take a beating for me. Who would risk their own lives to save mine. And you were at the top of that list."

"That's why I had such a hard time introducing you to Andrea earlier," Reid explained. "When we worked together, I could say, 'co-worker' or 'colleague,' but not 'friend,' because that isn't correct. And saying 'brother' is kind of weird, given my blinding whiteness."

Morgan chuckled, "Maybe 'brother from another mother'?"

"You can say that, but I can't," Reid noted.

"Why not?" Morgan asked.

"Because someone who looks like me could use Black English and somehow _not_ look ridiculous?" Reid insisted. "I don't think so. "

"True." Morgan couldn't help but agree.

They paused as they finished their bagels and sipped their coffee.

"We've been talking so much about me, how are you doing?" Reid inquired.

Morgan suspected Reid was trying to deflect again, but he didn't want to keep fighting him about it. He'd figure out a way to steer the conversation back somehow.

"I'm good," Morgan stated. "Really good. I miss you guys, of course, but otherwise fine."

"Your construction company is doing well?"

"Yeah. I'm up to six employees now."

"The work is seasonal, isn't it?" Reid asked. "Does that cause problems?"

"It did, at first," Morgan admitted. "Until I figured out that you schedule exterior jobs in the spring, summer and fall, and interior jobs in the winter, although that actually wasn't my biggest problem."

"Really?" Reid seemed surprised. "What was?"

"A lot of the construction industry is well, closely aligned with organized crime, as you know," Morgan noted. "And, I don't exactly fit the 'ethnic profile.' "

"What happened?"

"Well, I started getting work and then, suddenly, every job I bid on went to someone else. You expect to lose bids, but this was every single one. I couldn't figure it out until one day, I was in my office and I got a visit from one of the local goodfellas. He said he heard I was 'having difficulties,' and that he felt sorry about that."

"I'll just bet he did," Reid interjected.

"He also told me I needed to 'earn' my way in by talking all the small, low paying jobs no one else wanted, and from those jobs, I needed to 'pay some dues' to the local 'family.' "

"Gee, what did you do?"

"I told him I was retired FBI, and that I still had friends in the organized crime division, and that they would most likely be very interested in the discussion we'd just had that I happened to record."

"You recorded the conversation?"

"No, but he didn't know that."

"Wow. Then what happened?"

"The color drained from his face, and he got very apologetic and told me that the construction industry is very competitive and that as long as I 'kept my pencil sharp,' I should do just fine. And then he left."

"And everything was okay after that?"

"Pretty much," Morgan stated. "I'm still paying too much for materials because they take their cut, but so is everyone else, so it's kind of priced into the market. The point is they know I could make a couple of phone calls and make their lives very difficult at any time, so they leave me alone."

There was another pause. Morgan was about ready to bring things back to Reid when Reid spoke up again.

"How is Savanah?" Reid questioned.

"When we moved, Savanah became the newbie at the ER she works at, so her hours are a little weird," Morgan said. "But, otherwise, she likes her job."

"Less 'big city' violence, I would assume," Reid noted.

"But, just as many ODs, unfortunately."

"That's everywhere now," Reid acknowledged sadly.

There was another pause in the conversation.

"And my namesake?" Reid's face looked truly happy for the first time during the visit.

"He's started walking."

"Wow," Reid exclaimed. "Do you have a picture?"

"Better than that," Morgan remembered. "I have a video!"

Morgan pulled out his phone, selected the camera function and started swiping through. "Here it is!"

He moved the phone so both he and Reid could see it. Hank was maneuvering himself around by clinging to a table, and then he let go and stood up on wobbly legs. After steadying himself, he step-waddled toward the recording device as Morgan encouraged him off-screen.

"Were those his actual first steps?" Reid inquired.

"As far as I know, yes." Morgan was beaming.

"Awesome." Reid's smile now had a little sadness in it, Morgan noticed. "You are so lucky."

"If either of us were at all religious, I'd say blessed."

"Actually, that word does have meanings outside a religious context," Reid noted. "As an expression of gratitude, for example."

"Thank you, Mr. Dictionary." Morgan was smiling.

"Sorry about that," Reid ducked his head.

Just for a moment, it felt like old times to Morgan. "I know I'll live to regret saying this, but there are times I miss that."

"Really?" Reid seemed genuinely surprised. "What times? When? Can you be more specific? Is it when you can't remember something? Or when you don't know a fact you'd like to access?"

"I knew I'd regret it." But Morgan was smiling.

"And when this happened," Morgan waved at his phone, indicating the time Hank took his first steps, "I did feel like the luckiest man on the planet. And as grateful as I felt the day Hank was born. You hugged me twice that day, you know."

"At least I didn't kiss you, like Rossi did," Reid noted.

"Yeah, but it works for Rossi," Morgan countered. He realized he'd found a way to steer the conversation back to Reid. "Did you know that Rossi came to the hospital a couple of days later? He'd brought flowers for Savanah, but she was asleep, so we left the room and we had a conversation. He told me that having a child heals wounds. I didn't really get it then, but I think I understand better now. It gives you the chance to love someone unconditionally, and it lets you be able to give him or her everything that you didn't have. And it's something I wish for _you_ all the time."

Reid sighed. "You can stop wishing. It's a chance I'll never get."

"Why not?" This was really not something Morgan wanted to hear. The Kid was selling himself short again.

"Because Maeve is dead." Reid's voice was flat.

"Yes, she is," Morgan acknowledged. "And I'm truly sorry about that. But, do you think that's the only person you'll ever be in love with?"

"No," Reid acknowledged, "but she was the only person who could ever be in love with me."

"No offense, Kid, but that's bullshit," Morgan asserted. "Pure unadulterated bullshit. A pretty boy, a genius and a decent human being. What more could any woman ask for?"

"There's a list," Reid replied, "Less obsessiveness, less rambling discourse, less germaphobia, fewer weird hand gestures . . . "

"I suppose those could be issues - for a woman who's a superficial airhead. But, for the right woman, a _real_ woman, those would hardly be deal breakers," Morgan observed.

"You think so?" Reid almost sounded a little hopeful.

"Absolutely." Morgan tried to sound as definitive as possible.

"But, it's been years since . . . " Reid really didn't want to say Maeve's name again. "Well, anyway, I haven't found one."

"That's 'cause you're not lookin' hard enough," Morgan was grinning at this point.

Reid made a face.

"What? It's fun." Morgan insisted, feeling a wave of nostalgia for his bachelor days.

"For the socially smooth like you, I'm sure it is. But for the socially awkward like me, it's nothing short of torment," Reid noted.

"_That_ bad?" Morgan pushed back.

"Well, now that I have the death of a significant other and imprisonment as benchmarks of awful . . . " Reid paused, comparing things in his mind

"Oh, come on!" Morgan exclaimed. He was obviously exasperated.

Reid slowly broke into a grin. "Well, not _that_ bad, I guess."

Morgan snorted. "Well played, Kid."

"It's still not easy for me," Reid insisted.

"It's not easy for anyone," Morgan countered.

"Oh, please," Reid argued, "It was something you could do in your sleep."

"First, it was never that simple," Morgan insisted. "Second, I did get better at it with a lot of practice."

Reid looked puzzled.

"What I'm saying is that you need to get out there and try. Some brilliant, beautiful and funny woman isn't just going to fall out of the sky into your lap."

"That would probably hurt, anyway," Reid observed.

"Stop being so literal."

"Okay," Reid conceded. "It's just that I barely have the energy to get out of bed and deal with my Mom. And I'm going to have to work like hell to get back into the BAU. When am I supposed to make the time and find the wherewithal to go out and date on top of all that?"

"Well, it seems like you're getting help with your Mom, so that's one thing that will free up some time," Morgan noted. "And I think you'd would have less chaos and feel better about seeing someone if your living arrangements weren't so . . . cozy."

"I'm not sure I can afford a bigger apartment," Reid said.

"Probably not downtown," Morgan agreed. "But maybe a little ways out."

"I don't want to have to drive to work every day," Reid complained. "And I don't see how apartment hunting is going to free up any of my time."

"I have an idea," Morgan began. "When I started restoring houses, one of my first was this place on the outskirts of DC. It's small – two bedrooms, an office, one full bathroom and a powder room with a tiny yard. I thought for a while I could live there myself – you really couldn't fit more than a couple or maybe a couple with a baby. Then again, maybe not a baby."

"But babies are so small, how much space would one need?" Reid questioned.

"They are small, but you need space for their stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Cribs, changing tables, playpens, swings, strollers, car seats, carriers, high chairs, toys, and clothes. A _lot_ of clothes . . . "

"Wow," Reid remarked. He really didn't know how to counter Morgan's point. "Why do they need so many clothes?"

"Because they are constantly peeing, pooping or spitting up on themselves, and if you don't want to be doing wash every two hours, they need a lot of clean outfits to wear."

For a moment, Morgan felt a little smug, he had to admit, finding something that he knew so much more about than Reid. Back to the discussion at hand. "Anyway, I had a renter who just left, and I think it would be a good spot for you, your Mom and her caregivers."

"It's easily accessible to the Metro?"

"Two blocks away."

"I'm not sure I can afford it."

"Some of your Mom's SSI can go to housing, can't it?"

"Yes," Reid agreed. "But it's not that much."

"I'm guessing you've had a few raises since you moved into that apartment, what is it, thirteen years now?"

"Fourteen. It was my first apartment after I finished school."

"Aha!" Morgan stated triumphantly.

"Aha, what?" Reid responded with a question.

"This would be a change for you, and I know how much you hate change," Morgan observed.

"No, that's not it, um, well, okay, um, maybe . . . " Reid equivocated.

"I knew it!"

"Fine," Reid grumbled. "What's next?"

"I'll send you the name of the rental agent and you can go see it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Reid asked. "What's the rush?"

"Your schedule's so busy you just can't squeeze it in?"

"Well, my Mom has a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning," Reid informed him.

"I'll set up the agent for the afternoon, then," Morgan offered.

"Sometimes her appointments take longer than we planned," Reid countered. "It could go into the afternoon."

"I'm sure the agent would be okay with the evening."

"Lately, it's been tough to have Mom out at that time with her sundowning . . . "

"Why do I feel like I'm being fed excuses?"

"No, I'm not – "

"Reid, what do you do about your Mom's doctors' appointments when you are travelling?"

"Her caregivers take her."

"Problem solved," Morgan stated with finality.

"So," Reid asked, "Do you think having this place will actually help my social life?"

"I can't hurt having a place where you can bring a woman home and not have to do it on the couch with your Mom and her caregiver in the adjoining bedroom," Morgan observed.

"I guess not," Reid agreed.

"You still have to get out there, though," Morgan insisted.

"I know. The last few months haven't exactly helped," Reid observed. "Kind of a libido killer."

"Not a lot of hot chicks in prison, I'm guessing."

"Not even hot guys."

"What?"

"I was asked at one point if I could be heteroflexible."

"God, Reid."

"Don't' worry, nothing happened. Not voluntarily or involuntarily, lucky for me."

There was a pause.

"Still there is that whole, 'women in prison' genre," Morgan ventured. "That can be kind of hot."

"Cat ruined even that for me," Reid noted.

"That woman is an ongoing source of evil, isn't she?"

There was another pause. Reid was searching desperately for another topic.

"Hey, how did you and Savanah meet, anyway?"

"You know that twenty-four-hour Indian place on Dupont Circle?" Morgan asked.

"Yes."

"Well, the team got back late one time and I decided I didn't want to cook, and everyone else seemed to want to head home, so I went over there to get some take out," Morgan explained. "I usually order ahead on my phone and just run in and pay for the food. For whatever reason, I didn't do that. So, as soon as I put in my order, this drop-dead gorgeous woman comes in and orders some food, too. You know how they have those benches where you can sit and wait for your takeout?"

"Yeah," Reid acknowledged.

"Well, it was a Saturday night and the place was incredibly busy. Not only were the tables full in the restaurant, but there was almost no seating in the waiting area. So, she had to sit next to me."

Reid was smiling.

"I started a conversation with her," Morgan stated, "And that was that."

"What did you talk about?" Reid was curious.

"Honestly, Kid, I have no idea," Morgan admitted. "I was talking to his hot, intelligent woman with a sense of humor, a little sass, and great cleavage, and I don't remember a word."

"I did have a female biology professor who once told me that I was the exception that proved the rule that men were more stupid than women because of testosterone," Reid noted.

"And I've seen it affect even you, Genius," Morgan insisted.

"I only know that I can hardly wait to see Savanah and tell her you don't remember anything about when you met," Reid tried to deflect.

"She already knows."

"And it doesn't bother her?"

"It's never bad for a woman's ego to think she's so dazzling in a social situation that a man can't remember what she said to him."

"Another drawback to an eidetic memory," Reid lamented.

"Or, another chance to find out that it doesn't always work," Morgan countered. "Just promise me you'll get out there, Pretty Boy."

"Okay," Reid agreed.

"Hey, look at the time," Morgan was staring at his phone. "I have to get to the airport."

"I'd offer to drive, but it's been a while," Reid said.

"The traffic is bad, anyway," Morgan observed. "I'll take the Metro."

They walked to the stop.

"It was great to see you," Morgan stated as he hugged Reid. "I love you, Kid."

"I love you, too," Reid replied as he hugged Morgan back.

"Don't be a stranger," Morgan admonished. "Savanah wants to hug the stuffing out of you, and I don't want Hank growing up not knowing either person he's named after. Promise me."

"I promise," Reid agreed. He watched Morgan disappear down the Metro steps and he headed back to the apartment.

When Reid met with the rental agent the next day, he found out that the renter hadn't "just left." The place had been unoccupied for a few months. It became available just around the time Reid had brought his Mom to stay with him from Houston.

Reid knew that wasn't just a coincidence. Morgan must have heard from JJ, Emily, or, more likely, Penelope, what was going on and had kept the place open for him. Reid would have to find a way to thank Morgan. He also wanted to let Morgan know he didn't need to feel guilty any more - that Morgan had been doing something to help Reid while he was in prison. A thing Reid now understood he needed very much. Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe it was time to start letting himself rely on other people, at least people who were family, like Morgan.

When the time came to move at the end of the month, Reid called on all his family. The BAU and their spouses, significant others and children were happy to help. And with that, Reid's healing process really began.


End file.
